


Patricia

by darkling2222



Category: Split (2016), Split-Fandom
Genre: Gen, Just a chat with Patricia and Casey, tea time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 00:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10651143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkling2222/pseuds/darkling2222
Summary: Half gods are worshipped in wine and flowers. Real gods require blood.





	Patricia

**Author's Note:**

> The quote is from Their Eyes Were Watching God (which is a beautiful book that I definitely recommend). Patricia never gets any love and I have gonzo headcannons about her so here you guys go!

It’s just Casey left in the room, Claire and Marcia had both already made the bid for freedom and they’re paying the price who knows where. Casey hopes they’re safe but there’s no way to know what really happened to them. 

There’s a noise from the hallway and her ears prick up at the sound. It’s a soft clicking on tile, not the thud of work boots from Dennis or the pad of bare feet like Hedwig. It must be high heels and thereby it must be Ms. Patricia. The door opens with a gentle click.

“Hello, Casey.” Patricia’s voice is lilting and feminine with an almost maternal smile. It looks so terribly off-putting on a man’s face but Casey manages a weak smile in return.

“Hello.” The greeting falls flat but it’s all Casey can do in the moment. Patricia pulls her pale pink shawl tighter around her shoulders, grey turtleneck high on a carefully elongated neck. 

“Would you like to join me for tea?” It takes Casey a moment to even conceptualize the offer, so odd as it is, but she manages a tiny nod and Patricia looks delighted at the prospect of company. “Lovely, come on along.” Patricia holds her hand gently on Casey’s shoulder as they make their way down the dark service hallway. 

And so, she takes tea with Mrs. Patricia, seated across from one another at the dinner table. The older woman has set out the table with immaculate care. The table cloth is exactingly smooth and spotlessly white across the second-hand kitchen table. The pale-blue tea set is set for two and positioned perfectly, each piece set in flawless symmetry to its twin across the table. A vase of morning lilies in the center, even the flowers look carefully posed in the cut glass.

Casey idly notes that OCD must run in the family.

“It’s so lovely to have someone for tea. Dennis really doesn’t have the patience for such things and Hedwig is always smudging up my good tablecloth.”

“Mmm.” Casey answers noncommittally, not having an opinion seems safer than even having one that agrees with her captor. She sits stock still in the kitchen chair, afraid to do anything without explicit permission. 

“Go on,” Patricia gestures with a smile, “It’s Earl Grey.” Casey mechanically takes a sip but she can’t taste it, it could have been boiled Kool-Aid for all she knows. She remembers the way Patricia slammed the knife down on the cutting board when the sandwiches were cut the wrong way and she is very careful to set the teacup back the exact way she found it. 

Casey speaks with rigid politeness that mirrors Mrs. Patricia’s cultured graciousness and she is careful to try and skirt any topic with more depth then the weather. Casey watches the other woman with hawk-like vigilance from over the good china. The conversation drifts to the other alters and Patricia seems more than happy to gossip about them. 

“Dennis is the protector of course and, to be honest, none of us are quite sure _what_ Hedwig is for.” She says with a joking roll of her eyes. She seems pleased as punch for the chance to speak with anyone. “I keep our faith, our sense of purpose.” Patricia finishes with a glow of pride. 

“That must be very hard.” Casey comments without thinking. Patricia quirks her head to the side quizzically. 

“Why do you say that?” The mood suddenly darkens, Patricia’s voice is cold and questioning as she taps the spoon sharply against the side of her teacup. Casey freezes like a deer in headlights, deathly afraid of saying the wrong thing as she scrambles to explain herself.

“It’s just that there are so many people that can fail you.” She explains in a somewhat shaking voice, keeping her explanation short. “Keeping faith isn’t easy.”

“What do you mean?” Casey shifts uncomfortably under Patricia’s gaze, staring down at the tablecloth and avoiding eye contact. She can’t think of a lie fast enough in the moment, there’s no other option but the truth. 

“It’s just hard to keep the faith that life will get better but it doesn’t and... and years go by.” she takes a shaking breath, the truth ripped from her painfully. “And there are so many people that can help you and you hope and hope that they will but it all just goes on…” she pauses a moment, eyes flickering to look at Patricia, to gauge her reaction. 

“Have you lost your faith, my child?” Patricia’s voice is soft and pitying. 

“Yes.” Her face flushes red, why this feeling is so crushing is beyond her but the cold truth of it hurts like a knife. Casey really doesn’t have any faith left, she has no expectation that her life will ever improve. Her uncle will hurt her forever. 

“I have faith in the Beast. He will save us and you will be his sacred food.” Patricia answers smugly, the words are the prayer of a madman and a zealot. A rush of fury runs through Casey’s veins, how can Patricia be proud of her faith? She had been born to worship after all, what kind of accomplishment is doing what you were meant for? In her wild moment of anger, all the pieces fall into place and the words burn on her tongue. 

“That’s why you came up with the Beast, isn’t it? No one ever saved you, they were too weak, so you created your own savior.” Casey laughs darkly at the realization, a kind of crazy hysteria bubbling in her throat. “Half gods are worshiped in wine and flowers. Real gods require blood, right?”

Casey had cut to the quick of her with only a few words. A lifetime of wine and flowers and crushed hope had turned Patricia to building her own gods, born of broken promises and made by fire and revenge. Year upon year of frustrated hopes had been fuel for so much anger, that kind of fuel must have made it easy to breathe life into a dream of revenge. To create the Beast.

Patricia purses her lips, threat clear in her tone, voice dripping venom. “That’s enough, Casey.” It’s enough to quiet the dark-haired girl, bringing her back to the fact that she’s been abducted and she needs to play nice. Her jaw is tight and she can’t keep the defiance from her glare. “Tea time is over.” Patricia continues, standing, and there’s no room for argument. 

Patricia leads Casey back down the hallway again but now the hand on her shoulder is a vice, forcing her down the hallway and back to her room. 

“It was lovely to speak with you, Casey, you’re a very insightful girl.” Patricia’s smile is cruel now, voice sweet as it is predatory. “I hope your understanding leads you to accept the Beast.” Patricia says as she shuts the door, a solemn farewell.


End file.
